by Lush, Tamara
“And I want time to slow down,” I say softly.
Kate’s not wearing sunglasses, and she’s staring hard at the Gulf of Mexico, which is so sparkling and blue in the afternoon sun it looks like spilled glitter. Her eyes are rimmed red, and the tip of her nose is a matching color. I’ve never seen her so upset.
Lifting my hips, I slide my shorts down, then struggle to get the damned things over the cast. Christ. Should’ve worn a beach cover-up. Normally I’m perfectly accessorized, well-put together, and know exactly what to wear in each situation.
But this place is throwing me off, for many reasons. It’s almost too relaxing here. The wedding was two days ago, and time has stretched and expanded, one day into the next. I’ve spent most of the hours with Max. Watching movies, taking in the sunset from my suite’s balcony, having sex.
And, we’ve also talked. A lot. About my job and future. About his desire to sell the resort for as much money as possible, so his parents can have a great retirement. How he’s planning to help his sister Natalia get a management job in a hotel somewhere, preferably on the island.
I admire him for his commitment to help his family. Then again, the Hastings family consists of mentally stable, non drug-addicted, fully functioning human beings. Everything my family isn’t.
Even Damien, the most brooding one of the Hastings clan, is a veritable Bob Ross sunshine painter compared to my younger brother, who lives in my parents’ basement and plays video games all day long.
“Did you ever tell Damien why you sobbed that night on the rocks?” I slather sunscreen on my legs even though we’re under an umbrella. Can’t be too careful. I offer it to Kate, and she shakes her head.
“I said it was because of my mom and the stress of the wedding.”
“Kate. Jesus. What are you afraid of? I thought you were going to tell him all of your feelings? And what about your birth control situation?”
She rubs her nose. “Oh! I got my period. On the day of the wedding. I didn’t tell you?”
Oof. Sucks for her. I shake my head. “I’ve tried not to hound you these past two days because I figured you’d want to be with Damien.”
A soft smile spreads on her face. “I told him I loved him at the wedding. And when he left. I think I might write him a letter. Like an old-fashioned letter. Explain everything more in detail, about how I’ve felt all these months since we hooked up.”
“Damien doesn’t strike me as the letter type.” He seems more like the caveman type, but that could just be my impression, one I won’t share with Kate, since she’s so smitten.
She raises an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised. He reads a lot. He loves history books. He’s pretty introverted, except in certain situations.”
By her giggle, she doesn’t have to tell me what those situations are. I sigh.
“So what does this mean for us?” I roll my eyes. “Jesus, I sound desperate, like you just broke up with me.”
Kate laughs. “Well, I don’t think you’re going anywhere in your condition. So why don’t we assess in a few weeks or a month? Let me get Mom more stable. She’s done with chemo in about that time.”
I nod slowly.
“Or are you thinking of staying longer?”
“I dunno.”
“You truly don’t know? Is it the money?”
I shrug. “I’ve been doing really well until this month, so I have a nest egg. I don’t need to work for a few months. I’d feel better if I were productive and not lying here like I’m on vacation, having breakfast with you-know-who every morning. Feels a little too domestic.”
She grins and flops on her belly, twisting her head in my direction. Her ponytail flies around in the air. “Yeah. We haven’t talked much since the wedding. When Max carried you out as if you two were the ones getting married.”
“Oh, come on.” I fidget with the straps of my beach bag.
“That’s what it looked like. I thought his mother would burst, she looked so ecstatic. The only one who looked happier was him. Okay, and you. Especially when you shoved your tongue down his throat on the dance floor.”
“Hush your mouth, hussy.” I grin at the memory.
She stretches on her lounge chair. “So. Max. Tell me about him. Take my mind off my husband.” “I can’t believe you’re already tossing off the my husband phrase so casually.” “Right? Anyway, Max is the only one of Damien’s siblings I don’t know well, probably because he’s older and left the island after high school.”
“I told you everything,” I whine. “Told you about the viral video and photo. And the Dubai hotel canceling the trip.” My tone is more than a touch defensive.
“Notice I asked about Max. Not your job. You didn’t tell me anything about Max.”
I grab a book out of my bag. “I thought you’d want to spend time with your hot, hunky husband, climbing his body like a tree.”
She chuckles, and I open my book, hoping this conversation is over.
“Seriously, Lauren. Stay. Is it money? I know how you like to have a lot saved. I’m sure I could get you some shifts at the bar if you’re worried.”
I point to my cast.
“I mean, you can work when you’re better. Or you could finally start your photography business here. There’s even a university on the mainland with an MFA in photography.”
“Hmm.” I feign interest in my book. “You’ve already scouted schools for me? I haven’t made up my mind.”
“I spent five minutes looking up the university degree online. Because it would be good for you. I understand how you love traveling, but what you’re doing, what you’re putting yourself through, I’m not sure it’s worth it. You’ve seemed so stressed every time I’ve talked with you these past few months. Being a social media influencer, is it really you? And it’s not like you can do that forever. It’s for young, hot girls.”
“I’m not young and hot?”
“You are, but what about in five years? Ten? What then? Why don’t you use your gift the way you intended? You’re fucking talented, and not only for posing in bathing suits.”
I say nothing. This is what Max asserted the other night, and I’d shut the conversation down by giving him a long kiss. He’s brought this up a few times, though, how I should focus on my photography.
Frankly, I’m not sure why he cares.
Still, I think he and Kate are right. As much as I like the attention my Instagram account gets, what I love is taking photos. The thought of opening a portrait studio, or selling my travel photos, or printing my landscapes, give me a jolt of happiness.
Posing with cups of coffee at cafes in Rome or Prague doesn’t give me the same feeling. Not even close. Don’t get me wrong; I want to drink the coffees in those places, but I also want to enjoy the moment and not feel like I have to check-in online. I’m getting sick of doing things only for social media. It sometimes seems so fake and hollow.
When can I actually live life?
But I also make money as an influencer, and it’s not as simple as quitting everything and changing course.
Or is it?
“Max invited you to stay, didn’t he?”
I set my book on my stomach and grunt a yes.
She shrugs. “Mrs. Hastings thinks Max is in love with you. And Damien says Max seems happy. That’s all he said. Well, and that he hoped you wouldn’t break his brother’s heart.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’t think it’s possible I could break his heart. He seems pretty unbreakable to me.”
Beads of sweat are forming on Kate’s forehead. “Maybe it’s worth finding out if there’s something there? You two look happy. He looked pretty happy yesterday that photo you texted me.”
I lick my lips. I’d snapped a photo of Max in my hotel suite yesterday while we were drinking coffee and eating breakfast. He was about to leave for work. He looked irresistible, so I snapped a couple of pics.
“He had a meeting that morning with some bankers. Didn’t he look hot in his suit?” I’d even
tied his tie that morning… a couple hours later, I’d texted him one of my wittiest messages I’ve ever come up with: I hope your day is as nice as your butt.
I’m still giggling about that.
“Christ, Lauren, of the four of us, the two of you look more married than Damien and me. Act more married, too. We ate cold pizza and then took a shower together yesterday morning.”
“That’s Max. He’s so adult. Unlike me. Like even though he’s only here temporarily, he’s unpacked and folded all of his underwear in the hotel suite bureau. I’ve just let everything explode around the room. And he knows this is a fling. He’s only here temporarily, too. Once the resort sells, he’s gone. He has an apartment in New York, and he travels all over.”
The thought of saying goodbye to him makes my stomach churn. Probably because we’re having the most incredible sex I’ve ever experienced. Lust is a powerful emotion. But he’s also so sweet and funny. Dammit.
“I’m thinking we’ll be those kinds of friends with benefits who run into each other all over the globe every year or so. We’ll have romantic dinners and amazing sex, then part as friends. Like a Nicholas Sparks novel, but X-rated. And where no one dies.”
“But Lauren, why would you want twice a year with him if you could have something permanent?”
I’m about to retort it’s a little soon for thinking that way, but I can’t because of her sudden love match with Damien. It’s not like I want to shame her for her choices or feelings—there’s no doubt in my mind she’s totally in love with him.
But me? Fall in love this quickly? No fucking way.
If I could, though, it would be with a guy like Max. He’s gorgeous and smart and rich. Amazing in bed. Hilarious. And he encourages me to relax in so many ways. Take this Dubai situation, for instance. After my initial hysterics, I calmed down. Realized it wasn’t the end of the world.
Six months ago, I would’ve been inconsolable. Am I growing up?
Here’s what I don’t believe: that a man so incredible would ever want me for something long-term. I’m not marriage material. Between my troubled family, my history of wanderlust, and my lack of long-term job prospects, why would anyone as stable and organized as Max want to settle down with me?
He wouldn’t, that’s the answer. He’s with me because I’m wild in bed, and we have an incredible spark together. Because we both found ourselves on an island at a particular time in our lives. That’s all.
So why even bother pursuing him if I know he’ll eventually lose interest and break my heart?
“Nah.” I wave my hand. “Max is a fling. We have an agreement; we’re having an awesome time, and we’ll always be friends. It can’t get any better. Even if I stay here for a month, it’s only going to be a fling.”
Well, it probably could turn into something meaningful, if I had more self-confidence and believed in both my ability to hold down a relationship and start a business based on my talent.
But I can barely admit that privately to myself, much less out loud to Kate.
Or Max.
Eighteen
Max
Don’t react. Don’t react, asshole. Keep a straight face. Pretend it’s any other business meeting.
I glance down at the proposal and want to laugh in incredulity, then punch the smarmy resort chain prick on the other side of the table.
But I obviously can’t.
The offer for Paradise Beach Resort—my childhood home, my parents’ dream, the anchor of the entire island—is laughably small.
Lowball would be a fucking compliment.
I clear my throat. “Not quite what I had in mind, Steve.”
He and the other men around the table blink, expressionless. I’ve done business with all of them over the years as the nation’s top real estate broker focused on the hospitality industry. Business is business, but I’d expected they’d at least cut me a reasonable deal on my family’s resort.
Apparently, I expected too much.
“We’d hoped to be able to offer more, but the economy’s a little soft.” He continues on in a grating, nasal voice, and I tune him out.
“Well, let me take it under advisement with my parents and our counsel.” I stand and smile, imagining Tate’s colorful and resounding hell no. “We’ll be in touch.”
Handshakes all around, and within five minutes, I’m in the parking lot of the resort company, sitting in my car. My blood feels hotter than the interior of my BMW.
“Goddammit.” I swear a few times out loud while stabbing the ignition button on the car with my thumb. I’d hoped to have good news for my folks today. Hoped I could return with a serious offer so they could begin retirement sooner rather than later.
My phone rings, and I tap the cell phone icon on the steering wheel.
“Hey. How’d it go?”
It’s Natalia. “Hey, sis. Shitty. It went like shit. Shit sandwich. They lowballed us.”
She grunts. “You knew all along we’re a weird property. We’re historic yet quirky. Not huge but not a mom-and-pop, either. It’s going to be a tough sell.”
“It’s only been a couple of months. I’ll work something out.”
“You know. I was thinking about something, actually.”
“Yeah? You have a plan?” My sister sometimes has the craziest ideas, but the best ones. I’m not sure how she can fix this situation, though, and running a resort is more her expertise. Real estate is mine.
“I’ve had a plan all along, but you haven’t taken me seriously. Why don’t you and I run the place for a while? Let’s send Mom and Dad on an extended vacation. She’s always wanted to go on one of those round-the-world cruise trips. We continue with the remodel, make some changes, and try to get the numbers up. Then you sell it. Tate will help us, and we’ll press Remy into service when he’s not on the boat with his sport fishing tours.”
“I dunno.” I back out of the space and sigh. “It’s not the worst idea, I guess.”
“Shut up, jerk. It’s a great idea, and you know it. What else do you have in mind?”
“Ah, running my business in New York?”
“Which seems to be humming along by itself and has been for the past several weeks while you’ve been here.”
“Guess so.” My partner in New York does seem to have things under control. He knows how important it is for me to make things right for Mom and Dad.
“Think about it. You can stay here on Paradise—maybe at Mom and Dad’s if they go on that cruise so you don’t have to continue squatting in a suite—and we can work our magic. I got this idea in the shower this morning while I was shaving my legs. This way, you don’t have to fully commit to running the resort.”
I groan. “Please stop. I don’t need to hear about my sister showering and shaving.”
She laughs, and I do, too.
“Plus, Max, you can hang out for a little longer with your lady friend. Who I am having lunch with tomorrow, by the way.”
The mention of Lauren brings a grin to my face. “You are? Where are you two going?”
“Dunno, probably the Square Grouper. She hasn’t had a proper grouper sandwich since she came to the island.”
“Jesus, that sounds amazing right now.” My stomach pings with hunger.
“Think about my plan, okay? Drive safe on your way home. Hope traffic on I-4 doesn’t suck.”
“I will. And thanks.”
As I accelerate onto the interstate, Natalia’s idea starts to grow on me. I’ve got more than enough money to send Mom and Dad on a cruise. And I could cash out some stocks to help with the hotel renovation. If needed, I’m certain I could get a business loan with the collateral on my New York condo. Money’s not the issue.
How long would everything take? Four months? Six? A year? I could be back in New York by fall, possibly. It’s February now, and the thought of returning to snow and gray skies makes me groan out loud.
The reality of staying on Paradise for an extended business trip isn’t a bad idea.
/> And if Lauren stays with me that will be even sweeter.
If I decide to do this with my sister, all we’d need is Dad’s blessing. Which might be the most difficult thing of all.
* * *
“Hey, Rapunzel. How about you throw down the key to your room? That way you don’t have to hobble to the door.” I look up at Lauren, who’s on her balcony, grinning at me. She’s wearing a pink bikini, and I can’t help my heart from speeding up
The Orlando meeting went south but seeing Lauren is making my day considerably brighter.
She turns and disappears from view. I suspect she’s probably going for her little purse, which she always keeps near. It contains her precious phone, her hotel card key, and her pink lip gloss, which drives me insane whenever she pauses to swipe it over her sexy lips.
Lauren reappears at the balcony, card in hand. “Catch.”
She drops the card, and I grab it in mid-air. “Be right up.”
With the image of her pink-glossed lips around my dick front and center in my mind, I practically spring up the stairs to her room. We’ve spent every night together since Damien and Kate’s wedding, and I can’t seem to get enough of her.
Going to Orlando today was the longest we’ve been apart. I felt her absence and even texted her to tell her I wanted to plan a trip to the theme parks together sometime soon.
Weird, considering I didn’t even know her a week ago.
I let myself into her suite, and she’s already in the living room standing with her hands on her hips and wearing a bikini as tiny as sand dollars.
“You didn’t have to get up for me. You could’ve stayed on the balcony.” I cup her face in my hands and give her a soft kiss.
“I couldn’t wait the two seconds to see you.” She gives me a firm, brief kiss. “I didn’t expect you back so soon, and I haven’t showered. I’m sweaty from the beach. And I haven’t put on proper clothes all day.”
I hoist her in my arms and carry her to the cream-colored sofa.
“This is all part of my master plan. To keep you from wearing proper clothes.” I untie the knot of her bikini strap at her nape, then at her back. She settles into the pillow, her gorgeous breasts right in my face. She smells like suntan lotion and coconut, and it’s the perfect scent, I swear.